


Priorities

by Anyawen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest 2020, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, q takes care of his agents, team00
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/pseuds/Anyawen
Summary: There's more to Q's job than Mallory knew.
Relationships: James Bond & Q, unconfirmed James Bond/Q
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	Priorities

"You're in London, Alec. You're safe. Sleep, now. I've got you."

"Q?" Alec asked blearily, his voice a whisper barely audible through the oxygen mask.

"Yes, Alec, it's me. You're home."

"Good."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Now sleep. I have your back."

The injured agent only grunted in response and let exhaustion reclaim him. Q breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"How do you do that?" M asked from the doorway.

Q looked up, startled. He hadn't heard M approach.

"Sir?"

"Getting him to rest, in medical. Usually the agents are crawling the walls to get out, regardless of their injuries. If I didn't know your talents lay in technology, I would swear that was witchcraft."

"Not witchcraft," Q replied with a faint smile.

"No," M agreed. "He trusts you, and he doesn't trust anyone, except maybe Bond. And, apparently, you. He trusts you. They all do."

"Well I should hope so. Can't do my job otherwise."

M nodded, considering.

"And this?" M asked, gesturing to where Q sat in the uncomfortable plastic visitor chair next to Alec's bed in medical. "Do you see this as it part of your job, then?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Because I told him I had his back," Q replied. "One does not gain the trust of professional liars except by telling the truth, and keeping one's word."

"Hmm," M hummed an acknowledgement, moving into the room to stand at the foot of the bed, hands wrapped around the bed rail as he studied the still form before him. "Why, though?" he asked quietly. "He's home, and medical has staff to care for him. Why is it important that it's you that has his back? Why did you come here to see him in medical at all?"

"Mine is often the last voice agents hear out there, over comms, when things go tits up. I try to be the first voice they hear when they get back, after an extraction. We've found it makes the transition smoother," Q answered. "Occasionally, they'll even listen to me about staying in medical another day. Never as long as the doctors would like, but longer than they would stay on their own."

"They trust you because you show them a continuity of care, from the field home," M mused.

"No, that’s not it, though I’m sure they appreciate it," Q contradicted. 

"No?"

"They trust me because they know that they are my priority, always."

"Well, of course they are, as they are for all of us."

"No."

"No?" M asked, puzzled.

"MI6's priority - _your_ priority - is the mission. Get the data, eliminate the target, acquire the asset. That's your goal, always, as it should be. Whatever it takes, for Queen and country. And I support that goal, with all the resources at my disposal," Q explained. "That is, however, not my priority."

"And what is your priority?"

"We are," said a voice from the doorway.

"They are," Q agreed as M glanced back to see Bond entering the room. He was unsurprised at Bond's presence, as the man always seemed to appear in medical when Q was holding vigil. Actually, any time he was in London the agent was never far from the Quartermaster. "Always."

"I see," Mallory said as Bond took up a position behind Q's chair. The Quartermaster didn’t turn to look at him, but leaned slightly in the agent’s direction.

"Do you?" Q asked, curiously.

"I do," Mallory replied. "And I approve."

"Oh," Q said, surprised. 

"Did you think I wouldn't? That I would insist that you realign your priorities to toe the party line?"

"To be honest, sir? Yes."

Mallory snorted.

"He knows it would be wasted effort," Bond chuckled. "You might say the required words and mean not one of them, and go right on putting us first."

"Yes, well. You’re not wrong," Q said, turning to look at Alec. "I like to think it helps, you know, them knowing that I am in their corner. I hope that knowing I won't give up on them gives them a reason to keep trying. To hang on."

"It does help," Bond said, laying a hand on Q's shoulder and causing Q to turn to meet his gaze. "More than I can say."

"It helps," came a ragged whisper from the figure on the bed. "But can you all shut the fuck up now? How am I supposed to rest with you lot jabbering away?"

Q turned back to see Alec grimacing as he tried to lift the oxygen mask away from his face. He reached to catch his hand and draw it away.

"None of that, now," he chided, chuckling as Alec cracked an eye open and rolled it at him.

“Take him home, James,” Alec said with a cough, waving his hand weakly at Q.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home,” Q protested.

“I don’t think he’s suggesting otherwise, Quartermaster,” M said. “You’ve been here for three days, pulling his arse out of the fire. You’ve got your agent home safely, and he knows you’ve got his back. Go home, get some rest. He’ll still be here when you get back.”

“He’d better be,” Q muttered darkly, rising.

He stumbled a bit as he rose, the few hours of sleep he’d managed over the last three days clearly not enough. Before M could move, Bond had an arm around Q’s shoulders, pulling the Quartermaster close. 

“Yes, all right, fine. Take me home, James. Alec, _stay_. M …” 

“Tomorrow, Q. Not before noon. Bond?”

“I’ll see to it, sir,” Bond replied. “Let’s go, Q. You’re the priority now.”

With one last pointed look at Alec, Q let Bond lead him from the room.


End file.
